Perfect Rescue
by LaedieDuske
Summary: Sequel to Perfect Offer - Is it too late for Dean?


Title: Perfect Rescue

Author: LaedieDuske

Characters: Dean, Sam

Genre/pairing:Gen

Rating: I would have to say PG-13

Word-count: 1528

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to starvation and torture

Summary: Sam has found Dean, but is he too late?

Notes: Follow up to the Between The Lines prompt story _Perfect Offer_ finally.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, still don't own, would definitely take better care of them if I did, I promise. *snuggles Dean and rubs his tummy*

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Sam hesitates a moment, taking in Dean's extensive injuries. Rage ignites in his chest as nausea settles in his belly. Dean looks like death on a stick. Literally.

Sam wonders how the hell he is going to carry his brother to safety. The bruising on Dean's stomach and chest could indicate deeper damage, which completely precludes a fireman's carry. They are close enough in height and weight that Sam knows carrying Dean bridal-style would be tricky at best. He would need to find and maintain an exact balance point and hope his arms hold out.

He does not relish the idea, but he can't really see another option that will not cause Dean more harm than he has already suffered and there is not much time to debate. The homemade explosives he rigged in town did their job and distracted the revelers, but eventually they will send people back to the clearing.

Sam takes off his overshirt and ties it gently around Dean's waist, giving him some modicum of dignity. He notes as he does so that his brother is substantially thinner than he was when he was first taken, but the young hunter is reaching for his boot knife before he can fully process what he is seeing.

He cuts Dean's ankles free first, then stands to cut his wrists free. Sam loops his brother's right arm over his shoulders and his own left arm around Dean's back to support him as his left arm is cut free.

That is when Sam feels the deep lacerations on Dean's back and curses, knowing no matter what he does he is going to cause the injured hunter more pain.

As he slings his arm behind the limp knees and lifts, Sam nearly stumbles with the realization that the unconscious form in his arms weighs nothing close to what he was expecting to lift.

Sam can feel his heart hammering in his throat as _hospital hospital hospital_ screams through his head. Dean would be pissed if he knew his baby brother was toting him around bridal fashion. He would murder Sam in his sleep if he dropped him in a hospital like this.

The psyche eval alone would drive Dean to fratricide.

Sam makes a mental list as he hurries toward his broken brother's Baby. Protein powder, breakfast shakes, yogurt, Pedialyte, whole milk, juices. If he can get Dean awake enough to drink, maybe he can get some oatmeal into him too. Not the instant crap, the McCann's Irish Oats. Something hearty but semi bland so hopefully the starved body won't reject it.

First, though, Sam plans to drive them as far away from these crazy assholes as he can manage before his "gotta take care of my brother" instinct overrides all rational thought.

And he is locking all of the goddamn doors when he goes in for supplies.

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Three exhausting days later as Sam is cleaning and redressing the worst of the wounds, Dean flinches and whimpers softly. Sam winces, the thought of causing Dean more pain than he has already suffered makes nausea twist in his belly.

Sam squeezes a strip of ointment and covers it with an over-sized gauze pad before his sleep-deprived brain processes the significance of what just happened. He had managed to rouse Dean enough to swallow the thin protein shakes, but that had been more instinct than anything else. There was no consciousness or coherence, no other reaction to stimuli.

_Dean could feel him!_

"Dean?" Sam's voice is ragged from three days of talking, tethering Dean, letting him know he is finally safe. A wince and a weak grunt make Sam's heart hammer in his chest, "Dean, come on man, open your eyes for me. I've got you, you're safe now, but I need you to wake up."

Dean's eyelids flutter weakly, another soft whimper wrenches itself out of him.

"Come on you stubborn bastard, I'm tired of feeding you breakfast in bed," there's a knot in his throat as hope begins to warm his belly, "you've got to wake up so we can get some real food into you. I know damn well you've been craving bacon cheeseburgers."

The corners of Dean's mouth quirk up slightly as his eyes finally crack open and stay that way.

"Better be cheese fries with that, too." His voice is raspy, barely a whisper, and his eyes slide closed again as if even that was too much for him.

Sam feels a smile steal across his own face. "Yeah, well, you've had three days of Pedialyte, yogurt and protein powder," Dean's nose wrinkles in disgust, "it may be a little bit before we get you quite that far again. In the meantime, though, I was thinking maybe some oatmeal with maple syrup?"

Green eyes crack open and an eyebrow arches in interest. Dean tries for a deep breath and flinches as his damaged body protests. "How long?" Sam pales and won't meet the other man's eyes, Dean knows it for what it is.

Guilt.

"A month." Sam grinds out, as if the words are wrapped in razor wire and dragged out his throat.

Dean blinks.

"There was no sign of you when I came out, no trail to follow, no witnesses, I didn't even know where to start. I started researching the area, the history, the people, but there was nothing." Sam's voice is shaky. He shifts away from Dean and hangs his head, long messy hair hiding his face. Dean convinces his right arm to actually obey his commands and reaches out, laying his hand on his trembling brother's arm. "Jesus, Dean, I came out and the car door was open and you were just _gone_. I tore that town apart looking for you, but there was nothing to find. It was as though you'd just vanished off the face of the planet." His voice cracks at the memory, the feeling of losing his brother all over again seeping into his bones making him sick with loss and grief. Dean's fingers rub small circles on his arm and Sam soaks in the contact he feared he would never have again. "It wasn't until a couple weeks later I finally stumbled across this obscure pagan ritual to some unknown god at midsummer. It took me a week to find where they were keeping you, and another week to gather the supplies for the explosives without attracting attention."

Dean's pale forehead creases in a frown, "Explosives?"

Moist hazel eyes finally turn to meet his with a watery smile, "Yeah. I needed to distract them somehow, so I sort of rigged a couple bombs to go off when I was almost back to the field you were in. It was enough to get most of them headed back to put out the fires and the guards who were left were too distracted to do much good."

Dean can feel the unpleasant smile as it crawls across his face and pride swells in his chest. His baby brother kicks ass. "Nice work, Sammy." He sobers as his mind turns to Brother Joseph, "What about the head dude? What happened to him?"

"Nothing." Sam hurries on, seeing the the telltale signs of Dean's ire rising, "I just knocked them all out so I could get you out of there. I figured if we were going to get payback for what they did, you ought to be in on it. I didn't want to cheat you out of your fun." The smile he flashes at Dean is as malevolent as he's ever seen, and the older man matches it with one of his own.

Exhausted, the injured hunter finally lets his eyes drift closed. He is almost slid into the dark abyss of sleep when a thought occurs to him and yanks him back out again.

"Can't believe we came to help those idiots and that was the thanks we got."

Sam is perplexed for a moment, then remembers Dean was injured when taken and probably unconscious.

"No, man, they took you halfway across the state. They don't hunt in their own back yard. That's partly why it took me so long to find you."

Dean can hear the guilt and pain clearly in Sam's voice. He's beating himself up for what he perceives as a failure on his part, there is no way Dean can let that slide.

"Yeah, but you _did_ find me. Who else would have kept looking for so long? I knew you'd find me." He can't remember for sure if that were the case but he figures it must be. Sam always has his back when the chips are down.

Sam smiles, relief floods through him knowing that Dean isn't pissed at him for letting him rot in captivity for a month, but it does nothing to soothe his anger at himself. Sam is still amazed his brother survived the brutality he suffered and knows if he could have just put the pieces together sooner, Dean would not have been nearly as bad off.

Sam mentally resolves to take better care of his stubborn big brother in the future, whether he wants it or not.


End file.
